Just Another Day
by JackSparrowsBooty
Summary: Capturing an unsub proves difficult for Hotch and Prentiss, made much more difficult when she's pregnant. Mild swearing. One-shot with the potential for more.


Oscar Delgado took off with a fast turn of his feet and the agents instinctively dropped their coffees to the ground to give chase. Hotch was quicker, but Emily had never been one to back down either, and had proved her might time and again to her male counterparts. The unsub rounded a corner, gripping the brick wall of the building as he did, and Hotch managed to swoop right up behind him, reaching out with a firm, commanding grip and curling his fist into Delgado's flannel shirt. The two men fell to the ground from the impact of stopping so suddenly, and the homicidal drug dealer surprised Hotch with his strength by tossing him off and over against a row of wooden crates. Undeterred, the unit chief pulled himself up only to dodge a swipe to the face with a large hunting knife.

Hotch hopped to his feet with expertise, but just as he fumbled for his gun waiting readily at his hip, Delgado made a downward motion with the eight-inch blade and dug it into the agent's shoulder, missing his original target, the heart. Hotch's gun hand froze around his weapon and he gasped, staring at the knife in horror as it stuck out from his chest. A gunshot rang out a few seconds later and he watched in morbid fascination as the unsub grasped his abdomen and fell to the ground. His glance came up and was relieved by the presence of the brunette woman, whose face shone with a terrified sheen of sweat. "Emily!" he breathed, gently putting his free hand around the handle of the knife.

"Hotch, don't pull it out!" she shrieked, thrusting her hand out at him. She pressed the dial on her radio and shouted for assistance, alerting any other agents in the area as well as the dispatch of the officer in distress code. "Officer down, I repeat officer down at the corner of 2nd and Jefferson! We need an ambulance immediately!" Emily was trembling violently as she helped her boss carefully sit down, ignoring the whimpering cries of Delgado two feet behind her. "Oh, God, Hotch! I don't see much blood, but it's deep in there. This is bad!" She grimaced, tears threatening to blur her vision, but she swallowed the urge to cry away. Suddenly a pain ripped through her middle with enough force to cause her to cry out. "Ah!" she gasped, bending over and holding her middle.

Hotch fought through the fire in his shoulder, gritting his teeth, his focus changing to her, immediately concerned for her and their baby. "Emily..." he ground out, trying to stay completely still, in order to avoid jostling the enormous piece of sharp steel protruding from his chest.

Emily put a hand against the grimy side of the building, and she looked at him knowingly. "I pushed myself too hard." Her throat constricted painfully. How could she be so stupid to run full-speed ahead at twelve weeks pregnant? Why had she actually allowed herself to become excited about having a baby? Especially when she knew she'd fuck it up like this? And now Hotch had gotten stabbed as a result of her stubborn refusal to slow down—if she'd only insisted to park her ass back at the police department and allowed Morgan to assist Hotch, none of this would have happened. "I'm sorry!"

"Emily...it's okay," he chuckled humorlessly, and felt relief warm his belly with the approaching sound of sirens. "It's not your fault." He took a shallow breath in, ignoring the flare up of pain. "You saved my life."

She detected a growing, uncomfortable wetness between her legs and the sensation caused a cry to escape her throat. "No, please!" she begged to the baby inside of her. "Please!" _Stay there!_ A fierce cramp burned inside of her lower abdomen so forceful, she fell to her knees. Footsteps pounded the pavement as reinforcements arrived.

* * *

><p>Emily's hand was over her eyes as the ultrasound technician pressed the device into her abdomen, his face glued to the screen. He said nothing as he moved it around, even as she jumped when he hit a tender spot in her left side. Five minutes went by, then ten, until she decided she <em>needed <em>to see why he was so quiet. "Anything?" she asked, her voice flat, expecting to hear the worst. Twelve weeks of intense fear and resentment to visceral joy and giddiness over the prospect of being a mother despite how he or she had come to fruition—if she lost this baby, she wouldn't know what to feel.

"Well, Agent Prentiss, it looks like the fetus has a strong heartbeat. Moving around just fine." He adjusted his glasses. "The placenta is perfect. No blood clots." He paused, taking in the fear on her face. "That's a good thing."

She peered over to inspect it herself, feeling an immense relief wash over her. "Really?"

Just then a woman traipsed in donned in a lab coat and she took a look at the screen herself. "Looks human to me." She grinned at her own joke. "How's it look?" The tech confirmed what he'd found and she nodded, knowingly, pulling on gloves. The doctor, whose nametag read 'Kertz' gently pressed against Emily's lower abdomen, until she'd finally settled against the left side, where the woman flinched visibly. After Kertz performed a pelvic exam, she snapped off the gloves, tossing them into a garbage. "All right, you can sit up."

"Is everything okay?" the agent asked as the lights came back on.

"Well, Agent Prentiss, your baby is fine. You, on the other hand, need to take it easy. I believe you may have pulled or torn the round ligament attached to the uterus. You probably did so while you were performing your investigative duties." Her eyebrows climbed her forehead in a rebuking fashion she was painfully familiar with thanks to her mother. It was her favorite form of scolding.

"Oh." Emily knew what this meant. "Thank you, doctor." After instructions to be on complete bed rest for one solid week, she was allowed to hop down from the stiff hospital bed. She landed more gently than usual, leaning into her left side, and grabbed her clothes which were lying in a rumpled heap on a chair. She dressed as quickly as possible, then walked gingerly out of the room. She had to ask around and orient herself with the layout, but she soon found Rossi, JJ, Reid, and Morgan pacing around in front of one particular door. Emily's heart dropped into her gut at the sight. Rossi was the first to notice her presence. His face was confused and angry.

"Emily," he said, his frown cutting. "What the hell happened with you?"

Her face reddened and she bowed her head. "Ho-Hotch was stabbed-"

"I know about that already. What was going on with you?" His expression saw right through her shaky facade. "Is there something going on that I should know about?"

She looked up to meet the gaze of her three colleagues and she knew she must confess. "I pulled a ligament."

Morgan's dark frown revealed his emotion. "Everything turn out okay, I take it?"

"Uh, well, yes. But the doctor ordered me on bed rest for a week."

"For a pulled ligament?" JJ barked. "That doesn't seem to warrant bed rest."

"Jayje," Emily mumbled, her gaze on her shoes. "I think that it would be best."

Reid's eyes narrowed, obviously onto something. He glanced at her midsection, then suddenly had an epiphany. "How long?" Emily went as rigid as if someone had jabbed her with a cattle prod.

"What?"

Rossi caught on better than expected. "Emily, are you pregnant?" Emily suddenly felt a combination of the desperate need to get away and overwhelming nausea, but she simply nodded, swallowing the urges away.

JJ cleared her throat. "Well, that was unexpected."

The older agent tapped his foot, then took Emily by the elbow and led her away from the others. Much to her amazement, his expression was soft. "When were you planning on telling us about this?"

She finally met his gaze, feeling guilty. "I don't know, Dave. I wasn't even sure if I was going to keep it at first."

"How far along are you?"

"12 weeks or so."

He nodded carefully. "Baby's father involved at all?" He knew that her life was rather lonesome, so the prospect of her having a relationship outside of work without his knowledge surprised him. "Anyone in our unit?"

Emily felt her eyes burn with embarrassment and she turned away, her hands on her hips. "Dave, I'm so sorry."

"What is it, Emily?" His voice was flat, as if he was already aware of what she was going to say.

"Hotch..."

There was a silence after she whispered his name, and she finally swiveled to see his reaction. She knew that she was treading a fine line for even pushing herself to more than her physical ability, but to be involved with her boss? That was grounds for an official reprimand. "Dammit."

A voice came from the right of them—it was Reid. "Dave, Emily, Hotch's doctor wants to talk to us." Emily shoved her way past the older agent, ignoring the pain in her side and stood before the man in a white lab coat. JJ, Reid, and Morgan's faces appeared at ease, but she feared the worst.

"Is he okay?" she breathed.

The man grinned. "Oh, he'll be fine. He's a lucky shot. The knife missed the superior vena cava artery, the large vein in his shoulder, and lodged into the muscle instead. He took ten stitches and will be pretty sore on that side, so I had him put into an arm debilitator and gave him some pain medication. But he's good to go."

Emily allowed herself to relax for the first time since those tense moments in the alley. "Thank God." She sighed, then stepped into the room just as the dark-haired unit chief was struggling to get his shirt on with one usable arm. "Aaron," she announced and she grimaced as he jolted the immensely bandaged collarbone. "Sorry," she mumbled.

He shook his head and waved a hand. "Don't apologize, Emily. You saved my life."

She chuckled mirthlessly. "You keep saying that." The look in his eyes stopped her sardonic remark and she was forced to bring to attention the deep emotion she usually kept hidden away. Her eyes burned as tears pooled at the corners of them. "About the baby-"

Hotch paused in his quest to get his shoes on and gave her his full attention. "Is the baby all right?"

Emily pressed her palm against the lower part of her belly. "I may have torn the round ligament, but the baby is fine." Hotch's shoulders sagged as relief flowed through him, and she continued. "The doctor gave me strict orders of bed rest for a week. How about you? You fare any better?"

He sighed, wiggling his toes into his shoes in order to slip them on without moving too much. "You know the drill. A few days off, then a week or two of restricted duty until I get a doctor's sign-off." His face was crestfallen and Emily knew that staying at his desk was very difficult for him—something she likened to trapping a squirrel in a cage for two weeks. Hotch was the kind of man whose life ambition was his job, every aspect of the study, profiling, and hunt of the unsub, so he took every hit personally. "Did Delgado make it?"

She crossed her arms, thankful that the conversation had drifted away from the personal. "He took a bullet to the chest, but he's still in surgery, holding on. The docs are expecting him to recover fully for his eventual conviction." He nodded, biting his bottom lip and picked up his things with his good hand. "Want me to take you back to the hotel?"

"Sure," he mumbled, expression unreadable. She was vaguely surprised at the immediate answer, as she was expecting him to battle with himself over being alone with her since they both knew what could potentially happen if they were away from the rest of the unit long enough.

* * *

><p>Emily pulled into the hotel parking garage and the two of them sat silently, waiting for someone to react. Finally, he spoke up for the first time since leaving the hospital. "Emily," he started, then stopped himself. He gingerly touched his swathed shoulder, rolling the ball and socket gently. "You coming up?"<p>

She glanced at him in what she could only interpret as nervousness, the bottom of her belly churning. "You sure about that?" Her insides screamed at her to leave because things were just too weird between them, but another part of her desperately wanted him to ask her to stay. She felt ridiculous and pathetic at the yearning she felt for his attention. Her hand slid away from the steering wheel and rubbed her belly, which still felt taught and flat, but had just started to develop a slight bump.

Hotch nodded, the chestnut brown in his eyes sincere. "Yeah. I won't be much use with one arm, you know." The corners of his mouth perked slightly into a small grin. The butterflies in her stomach surged into a frenzied action. That was a deliberate invitation to stay and she was well aware of that. What had changed? Something in his face seemed softer and less impermeable. Had the stabbing knocked something loose? She locked eyes with him and nodded, then slowly opened the driver side door. Her left side was catching a bit, so she put less pressure on her leg as she stood, then skulked over to the other side of the sedan where Hotch was also gingerly hauling himself out of the vehicle. She moved as quickly as possible to assist him, but he waved her off, bumping the door with his hip until it was closed. "I'm okay."

"You sure you need me?" she asked. The two of them walked in stride to the door leading to the elevator. "Looks like you've got it all under control."

Hotch shrugged, then countered when it caused an angry surge through his shoulder. He gritted his teeth. "I don't know, Emily. It was just a suggestion."

Emily bit her bottom lip, feeling slightly guilty and forced herself to keep it neutral. "Well, I guess it won't kill me."

His room was cold and dark, as it always seemed to be up north. He fumbled with his right hand against the wall and flipped the light switch, turning on the ceiling lamp to reveal the tiny, barely furnished hotel room. The place reeked of loneliness, and Emily unconsciously brought her hands up to rub her arms. How the hell could they continue to live like this? Hotch paid no mind as he trotted in, using his good arm to toss his jacket to the side, landing untidily on an armchair. Emily eyed the stark white bandage that seemed so out of place to the color of his skin, then to the dark blue sling. Sympathy panged her gut when he rubbed the injured shoulder and she noticed his jaw tighten. He was in pain.

She sat down carefully into a threadbare loveseat, palming her left side. They certainly were a pair, weren't they? Battered and weather-worn, together to lick each other's wounds.

"What a day, right?" she said, deadpanned. He chuckled softly and she chanced a peak at his face. "You look like hell."

He scowled, but it never took shape and turned into a wry grin. "You don't look so hot yourself."

"I have an excuse," she smirked, poking her uterus with a few fingers. "I have permission to look like shit when I'm carrying a life inside of me."

Hotch could have snapped back with a laundry list of glib remarks, but he just smiled at the dark TV in front of them, then felt impulsive and slipped his right hand on top of her left.

Emily's heart fluttered when his masculine, worn fingers closed in on her own, and when she opened her fist, the hands intertwined, leaving her speechless. The act was subtle, but spoke volumes. Intimate, but cautiously affectionate.

They sat that way for a good couple of minutes and she spent more of that time focusing on the way his thumb played circles on the top of her hand than anything else. He finally broke the silence. "Are you leaving the BAU?"

The question interrupted her intense concentration of his minute ministrations. "What?"

"Are you reassigning? You know, because of the pregnancy?" His expression became a stone wall.

Emily took a moment to respond, trying to choose the right words. "No," she said. "But we will have to work separately." She pried her hand away from his and mentally noted that the warmth had been removed immediately afterward. "I told Rossi about—us." She stared at her fingernails, knowing he was giving her a hard, desperate look. "Strauss will split us up as soon as we go back to work and announce what is going on."

"I figured I could look into a reassignment at the US Attorney's office." Hotch would have shot up to begin pacing had it not been the wound in his shoulder.

Emily knew she was in no position to argue or disagree. She knew they would be forced to do so eventually, since their feelings for one another compromised their work ethic. The end of their platonic working relationship was what she was hoping to move on from, but the unit would drastically change without his leadership and she wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. Instead of becoming despondent, she rubbed her forehead. "If that's what you think is best. I just want you to be happy."

Hotch turned to her with a twinkle in his eye. "I was thinking of giving you a recommendation for promotion to unit chief."

Emily's mouth hung open in astonishment and descended quickly into a light red flush across her cheekbones. "You don't have to do that."

"I want to."

Emily knew that when Hotch wanted something, he'd stubbornly go to any great lengths to make it happen. Instead of putting up any kind of resistance, she let a small smile tilt her lips upward. "Well, if you insist…"

He moved on the couch closer to her and wrapped his arm around her. She shifted so that they sat more comfortably, and she leaned toward him, laying her head close to his. "You do realize we've sat here for about five minutes in the dark?"

Hotch smiled. "What do you want to watch?"

* * *

><p>AN: Just a little ditty! Tell me if this is good enough for anything more than that. :)


End file.
